


Scythian | Prologue

by mycupoffanfiction



Series: Scythian [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bucky Barnes - Freeform, F/M, M/M, Multi, Stucky - Freeform, marvel AU, steve rogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23243869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mycupoffanfiction/pseuds/mycupoffanfiction
Summary: The Reader, having grown up with Steve and Bucky and eventually falling in love with both boys is devastated when they sacrifice their lives to end the war. Years after their tragic deaths, she picks her life back up and decades later, becomes part of the Avengers. But when it comes to light that Steve and Bucky are alive, they are just as confused to see her in the future as she is to see them.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers & Reader
Series: Scythian [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671238
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	Scythian | Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternate universe based on the Marvel universe where both Steve and Bucky are found at the plane crash site.
> 
> This story borrows mythology from the Greek fascination with the Scythian warrior women and also from DC’s version of Amazons which are based off the Scythian civilisation.

The soothing sounds of Vera Lynn’s We’ll Meet Again played softly in the background. The hope that hung in her words was a feeling you’d clung to for seventy odd years. Your pencil scribbling on heavy sketchbook paper and the odd shuffle of pages joined the music now and again, the odd scratch of the record and the gentle clink of your mug adding to the early morning moment.

A sketchbook was laid out on the mid-century style table, portraits of two men drawn out in different positions with different expressions. Of course, there were other subjects among the pages, but the two very photogenic and handsome soldiers were a frequent subject choice.

The soft sound of a woman’s voice humming to the music was all Natasha could hear as she approached your door. She didn’t bother knocking, knowing that you would have locked the door if you hadn’t wanted company and she stepped into your open plan space, watching you for a second in silence.

“Morning Nat.” You spoke up, though you didn’t need to look up from your book to know who had entered your floor in the tower. “I suppose you didn’t come to share breakfast with me, did you?” You teased with a playful smile, putting down your pencil and sitting back in your chair.

“You’ve been drawing them again, haven’t you?” She asked, ignoring your question. Letting out a sigh, you gently closed your sketchbook and looked across the room, the fireplace in the middle of your living space had a beautiful mantelpiece framing it and atop the surface were your prized photos of your boys, Steve Rogers and James ‘Bucky’ Barnes.

“There hasn’t been a time where I haven’t drawn them.” You responded, finally turning to look at her, the pained look on her features told you another lecture was coming, but instead she just sighed and made a stride over to your bookcase, pale fingers running across the spines of your sketchbooks. “Why do you draw them so much?” She asked, using her finger to pull a book from the shelf and slowly flicking through the full pages. Images of Steve and Bucky staring back at her as she looked over the carefully penciled lines, soft smudges of graphite and the gentle hues of watercolour here and there.

You shrugged, you knew the answer, but you were reluctant to share and shrugged it off. Crossing your arms over your chest as you got up from the dining chair, you turned away from her and eyed the wartime photos of your soldiers. “You’re not here to talk about my sketches, are you Natasha?” You asked, the red haired assassin glancing over her shoulder at your cagey response and her expression softened as she looked at you, the pages of your book held carefully between her hands as she turned to face you properly.

“Fury sent me.” She admitted, eyes fixed to the perfectly drawn Steve who looked up at her. This was supposed to be your month off, so much had happened, so much pain had been caused and the trauma from the past months had brought you to breaking point. You had almost been ready to quit, but Clint had managed to convince you to take some time off to recover instead.

“Natasha-.” You were about to protest, unsure what to even say, but she fixed you with a look, a desperation in her eyes as she looked you over and your words lost their traction on your lips as you held her gaze. You were so tired and you barely had the emotional capacity for more than simple errands, but the heavy air that lingered between you two for a second, her green eyes capturing yours with a silent stare, slowly softening your reluctance. Your tense stature and the look that begged her not to drag you into something finally eased and you sighed, shoulders sinking, stance relaxing, your body language telling her to continue, that it was okay.

Natasha took in a tentative breath, the words stuck on her tongue for a second before she decided it was best to come straight out with it.

“We found them.”


End file.
